


life, in spite of everything

by pennyproud



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Happy Ending, Judgmental Coffee Shop Lady, M/M, anyways i'm an emotional sappy gay, i cant believe i wrote this in one sitting bye, i didn't proofread this at all don't @ me, kent gets a boyfriend and his boyfriend has a daughter and i love her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-07 00:29:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6776923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennyproud/pseuds/pennyproud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The main thing his Mom says before sending him to have coffee with a stranger is, “He’s very mature, Kent.” Which is totally Mom for, “Don’t tell him about the time you cried while watching Grease.” And, honestly, Kent is a tad bit offended.<br/>Or:<br/>Kent comes out, falls in love, calls his Mom, and finds his family. Not in that order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	life, in spite of everything

**Author's Note:**

> "What they don’t understand about birthdays and what they never tell you is that when you’re eleven, you’re also ten, and nine, and eight, and seven, and six, and five, and four, and three, and two, and one. And when you wake up on your eleventh birthday you expect to feel eleven, but you don’t. You open your eyes and everything’s just like yesterday, only it’s today. And you don’t feel eleven at all. You feel like you’re still ten. And you are – underneath the year that makes you eleven.
> 
> Like some days you might say something stupid, and that’s the part of you that’s still ten. Or maybe some days you might need to sit on your mama’s lap because you’re scared, and that’s the part of you that’s five. And maybe one day when you’re all grown up maybe you will need to cry like if you’re three, and that’s okay. That’s what I tell Mama when she’s sad and needs to cry. Maybe she’s feeling three."  
> \- Sandra Cisneros, Woman Hollering Creek
> 
> this is dedicated to tonya, fer, and penny, happy early mother's day.
> 
> (also i don't know anything about baseball or hockey don't @ me)

"… _You can feel the stars and the infinity of the sky. Since life, in spite of everything, is like a fairytale."_  
**_Vincent Van Gogh_ **

_-_

            Kent wouldn’t go as far as saying that coming out was easy.

  
            It wasn’t. The first month after the announcement is made, he stays inside, biting his nails and scrolling through comments and probably speeding up his already tragic aging by 100%. The only thing that snaps him out of it is Jack calling, and there’s the usual awkwardness and, yeah, it makes Kent kind of want to cry that things aren’t ever going to be the same, but Jack always has a way of saying the right thing, even if he doesn’t know that he did

.  
            “Look,” Jack says, and Kent inhales. Had he been crying? “All those records you broke? They’re yours.” And, yeah, that’s comforting, but it’s not like no one had told him that before. One of the main reasons Kent had come out after winning the Cup was because he had proven his worth as a player was undeniable. “But someone even broke Babe Ruth’s record eventually. One day, some kid is going to come along and absolutely destroy the Aces record book, just like you did.” Kent screws up his face.

  
            “Gee, thanks, Ja—”

  
            “No, Kenny, listen— “Jack interrupts, and Kent falls silent. “They broke Babe Ruth’s record but everyone still knows how he pointed to left field and made the home run.”

  
            “Jack, I don’t know that you’re— “

  
            “You’re a legend, now, Kenny.” Jack breathes out, sounding exhausted. Kent makes an _“Oh,”_ type noise and Jack snorts. “They can break your records and wear your number but you’re the first gay NHL player. Nobody can take that away from you.” A pause. “Not even me.”

  
            And then it all clicks into place.

  
            After Kent hangs up with a small, gentle, “I hope you guys work out,” and puts on his Saturday best, a tight shirt and jeans that made his butt look _amazing,_ he stares at himself in the mirror of the front hall. “You got this, Parse.” He whispers to himself, smoothing down a cowlick and pulling his hat down over his blond hair. “You got this.”

-

            Two shots and Long Island iced tea later, Kent realizes he _really doesn’t have this._ It’s been a month since he partied last and he’s not as young as he was when he and Jack used to do 5, 6, 7 shots a night – this is all taking a toll on him, and he had tried to go easy. But it feels nice, the heat of club lights on his skin and a stranger grinding into him and the airiness of it all.

  
            Because here’s the thing that no one tells you when you’re seventeen and your boyfriend won’t answer your calls and you’re supposed to move on: the hard part about being gay isn’t the closet. Even when he tells his team, a year after the draft, there’s still The Feeling: that loneliness that sets in your stomach and pulls you to the bottom of the ocean and, yeah, Kent’s tried explaining it to shrinks but it doesn’t work. They don’t understand.

  
            But it’s gone, now. Every time he looks in the mirror and says, “I’m gay,” a million sirens don’t go off about _what if someone heard, who’s going to be with me anyways, I’m too old to be coming out—_ it’s all gone.

  
            So Kent came out. The world doesn’t end and he keeps dancing.

-

            They lose in the second round of the playoffs that year, and, after the initial shock of Jack’s team making it farther than he wears off, Kent is okay. He calls his mom and says he might come back to New York for the summer, and she’s ecstatic. Apparently, there’s some _absolutely gorgeous_ man Kent just _has_ to meet, and even though the blond boy wants to give his Mom the “stop telling every queer you meet that you have a gay son” speech, it’s 2 am in Nevada and, honestly, not worth it right now. So Kent says, “Okay, Momma,” and “Love you, too, Momma,” before he drifts to sleep.

-

            Jack wins the Cup, or, the Falconers win the Cup. His boyfriend kisses him in a press conference afterward, a small blond with a little thing of hair sticking up in the back, and Kent can’t ever let it be said that Jack doesn’t have a type. (Hadn’t he dated the one who did pretty good in Wimbledon last year? Kent couldn’t remember her name, but he remembers the way her platinum hair had bounced in her ponytail and the knowing look Kasey had sent his way.)

  
            They talk about how they met and Zimms looks at him this way that makes Kent’s chest hurt, from a new kind of jealousy. For so long, he had wanted that with Jack, and when he had finally resolved to it not working out, he thought he didn’t want it at all but maybe that’s not true, anymore, and Kent’s entire newsfeed is his high school friends getting married and having kids. And, okay, sure, Kent was sure it had something to do with the way he had never really thought he would make it to 25, so he had never really planned for a future, but. Whatever.

  
            Kent calls his Mom.

  
            “So, this gorgeous man…What’s he like?”

-

The main thing his Mom says before sending him to have coffee with a stranger is, “He’s very mature, Kent.” Which is totally Mom for, “Don’t tell him about the time you cried while watching  _Grease_.” And, honestly, Kent is a tad bit offended.

  
            He’s still feeling a bit ridiculous about the whole thing after he’s ordered and is waiting in the corner for his date to show up. He has bright flashes of worry that someone will recognize him and ruin the whole thing because his Mom hadn’t exactly told GM (gorgeous man) about what Kent did for a living. (Momma Parson had then begun singing _Gold Digger_ with a bravado Kent didn’t know she had.)

  
            The door chimes as a new customer strolls in and, _wow, okay, yeah, he totally gets it now._

The man walks up to Kent-- who is blushing and staring at the cup in his hands trying to imagine the deep brown of Kitt Purrson’s soothing, matted fur—and smiles, a little shyly, and he has teeth like fucking pearls and Kent is so gay. Like, of course, he’s known he’s gay but looking at this man…Kent is really, _really_ gay.

  
            “You’re Kent, right?” He asks, and the blond in question just nods and ignores the sirens in head at the way his name poured out of the man’s mouth like syrup. Inappropriate pancake analogies are endless in Kent’s head, but he still manages a wobbly smile as they shake hands. “I’m Jesse, sorry I’m late.” Kent shakes his head, laughing awkwardly. Flirting had been easier when he was seventeen, he thinks, as he tries to recover.

  
            “It’s fine, really. I just sat down.” The woman at the table next to Kent, who’s been here almost as long as he has, snorts, and Kent narrows his eyes. “I mean, a little while ago.” Another snort. Kent almost grabs his keys and sprints out, but Jesse has arm muscles that are coming out his shirt and, really, how embarrassing could _one date_ possibly be?

-

            Turns out, with a snorting lady who refuses to leave sitting behind you, and all your stories somehow leading back to hockey, one date can be pretty embarrassing. Kent makes it through.

  
            He looks at Jesse while he talks, takes in his russet brown skin, dark enough to hide any hint of blush, and his short, curly, hair, which looks so soft Kent could cry, and his light brown eyes and, okay, Kent’s a little sprung, but it’s not his fault. Jesse talks about science and space and even tells a corny joke that makes The Woman Behind Them genuinely laugh, and Kent sucks in a breath through his teeth like the joke had hurt.

  
            “It was that bad?” Jesse asks, and he still has his accent from North Carolina, sweet and dripping over words like honey, and Kent nods, honest to god _giggling._

  
            “It was.” He breathes out, smiling a little behind the rim of his coffee cup. It’s been cold for thirty minutes, now, but once it’s finished, _this_ is finished. He doesn’t know if Jesse is even going to want to see him again, so he’s kind of relishing in the attention for now. Jesse chuckles, and he has these dimples in his cheeks that could hold enough water to feed a small village, and Kent’s head starts spinning. “So, you’re a teacher?” This time, Jesse laughs, but it’s loud and booms over the whole coffee shop. Kent fights a blush, just like he's been since he first saw Jesse, and curses his Mom for spreading false information.

  
            “Uh, yeah, I guess.” Which-usually, Kent is open to a bit of mystery, in the form of wondering whether or not his random hookups know who he is, but this isn’t one of those times.

  
            “My Mom just said that you were a professor?” Kent presses because now it’s nagging at him and he _has to know._ Jesse raises an eyebrow and lets an amused look settle on his face.

  
            “You’re serious.” He says, but not in the way that other people usually said it, the way that reminds Kent he never went to college and barely finished high school. His is sweet, endeared sounding. Kent’s head swims with the thought of Jesse finding him endearing. “Kent, I play baseball. In the majors.” And _oh,_ suddenly a lot of things Jesse had said before are making sense. “The Professor…it’s a nickname ESPN gave me when I was a rookie.”

  
            “Fuck.” Kent breathes out, and Jesse laughs so hard he cries. When he stops, he looks at Kent so warmly the blond has to stare down at his hands. “So, are you…”

  
            “Out? Yeah.” Kent nods, laughs a little in disbelief. “What? Starstruck?” Jesse suggests, and its Kent’s turn to laugh extra hard.

  
            “My Mom said she didn’t tell you.” Jesse takes a swig of coffee and raises a dark eyebrow (they had had a conversation about threading vs. waxing earlier when Kent had commented on the tragic state of his own). “I play hockey.” Jesse looks at Kent like he can’t believe it. “In the majors.” He adds, smiling a little and mimicking the man across from him. There’s a lull where they’re both processing. “So, do you chew tobacco? Like in the Sandlot?”

  
            Jesse looks personally offended. “Baby, please.” He says, mildly disgusted, but his smile is giving him away. Kent laughs.

-

            Okay, so, Kent’s never been in a completely healthy relationship before. He doesn’t have a lot of practice being a loving presence in someone’s life instead of the person who’s always knocking on their door at the wrong time, but he thinks he does an okay job. Jesse tells him he loves him before the end of the summer and, yeah, okay, now Kent gets all the annoying posts about love in a way he hadn’t when he had tried to relate them to Jack.

  
            And the way Jesse looks at him early in the morning, with the sun shining right into his eyes and his fingers gently resting against Kent’s hips. It’s religious, almost, makes Kent feel holy in ways he thought he never could.

  
            There are bad days, sure. There are horrible days when Kent sees Jesse with someone else and has to talk himself down, calls Jesse with accusation already in his tone, and is met with a calm voice. A loving voice. Kent finds out all at once that love has always been a religion, and this is the first time it hasn’t made him feel like a sinner.  
            So Kent is out, and Kent is in love. The world doesn’t end and Jesse blows raspberries into his stomach when they get drunk together.

-

            “Summer’s ending,” Jesse says on Facetime one day. The baseball season and the hockey season fill in the gaps for each other, meaning that baseball starts right as the regular hockey season is ending. So they’ve talked on the phone while Jesse’s been in Toronto and on the road, and it’s not as bad as Kent thought it would be, but there’s still an actual ache in the tips of his fingers to reach out and touch Jesse’s face. Kent nods, not wanting to think about how much he had been almost ignoring his meal plan would come for his ass in training camp. “We should talk.” Kent studies Jesse’s face on the screen, and it’s dead serious, so the blond sits up a little straighter, bracing himself for the worst. And then: “My daughter’s coming back from summer camp soon.”

            And _oh._

  
            It doesn’t shatter anything, all the castles Kent built in the clouds are still there, but everything kind of…comes with a different focus. It’s not like Kent hadn’t known, Jesse had told him on the first date, but it had felt so far away, the idea that there was a little person attached to his person. He voices this when Jesse asks if everything’s alright after a minute of silence, because he can do that, now, he can tell his boyfriend how he feels without guilt eating away at him because _he has bigger problems, Kent._ Jesse smiles, a little, like he’s trying to fight it to maintain the seriousness of the moment. “Your person?” Kent rolls his eyes and flushes a little.

  
            “Yes, my person.” Jesse beams and lets out a breath Kent hadn’t realized he was holding. “So…” Kent continues, tentatively. “When should I meet her?”

-

            Nakyra G. Perez is no one to be trifled with, Kent learns very quickly. She is very, deadly serious about the order the Bratz dolls-- Sasha, Yasmin, Jade, Cloe--, spaghetti, and Eloise. “Me and Daddy used to live in a hotel in New York.” She brags the day she meets Kent, nodding very earnestly and tugging on Kent’s pants. The blond’s heart swells. Her curly hair is pinned back by two bright yellow barrettes that look absolutely gorgeous with her new dress. Kent assures her of this fact. Nakyra smiles.

  
            That night, while Jesse is washing the spaghetti off of Nakyra’s favorite bowl and Kent is watching highlights, she creeps into the living room of Jesse’s penthouse long after she’s supposed to be asleep, rubbing at her little brown eyes with her hand, her tawny brown skin dark in the shadows of the night. Her feet pad against the ground as she walks up to Kent and tugs on his shirt, clutching a stuffed animal to her chest with her other arm. She has on her favorite pajamas, the ones with the frogs on them that still smell like summer camp, and she looks up at Kent with these big eyes that let him know he’s an absolute goner.

  
            He ends up tucking her in, reading her a story about how God created the snakes, and she laughs when she’s supposed to and makes sure Kent knows which voices to use for the different characters, the one that her Daddy uses, correcting him very seriously when he slips up. Eventually, she drifts to sleep, and Kent yawns looking at her. He doesn’t have a game tomorrow and is only in Toronto on a whim he had, but he has to leave after this weekend. Jesse stands in the doorway and smiles down and them, which makes Kent’s stomach go all fuzzy. It’s so…domestic, and not in the ugly way Kent had always imagined. It’s in the way his Mother had told him about when he said he was going to die alone, probably, and Kent smiles up at his boyfriend. “She’s...energetic.” He whispers, “Wonder where she got it from?”

  
            Jesse chuckles and crosses the distance from the door to the foot of Nakyra’s oversized bed, where Kent is now standing. He’s taller than Kent, by at least three inches, and older, too, not that it shows. He’s responsible and he’s kind and he makes Kent’s heart beat faster when he talks about what _they_ should invest in (not that Kent knew _shit_ about investments). “She’s not too much?” He asks, searching Kent’s face. The blond rolls his eyes.

  
            “Nothing I haven’t handled before.” Jesse smiles and picks Kent up, shushing him when he laughs too loud. He has this look in his eye that means the night isn’t over yet, and, yeah, okay, Kent could get used to this.

  
            So Kent is out, and Kent is in love, and Kent has a family. The world doesn’t end and Nakyra thanks  _both_ her dads in her speech when she graduates kindergarten the next year.

**Author's Note:**

> talk to me on tumblr @ dereknursey! comment if you can and thank you so much for reading!


End file.
